


Touches

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: Artificial limbs, artificial bodies... technology has advanced so much yet there are still questions left. McCree's arm works well as a tool but lacks when it comes to the sense of touch. After a frustrating mission, he can't help brooding about Genji and the question how perfect his cyborg senses really are. If he could get a hold of his hand he'd sure find an answer. An answer that is meaningless compared to the ones Genji has to give him after a life-threatening attack. (contribution to Day 1 of McGenji week - Touch)





	

**Author's Note:**

> A big sorry to everyone, friend and foe, who is still waiting for me to finish what I promised to write for them!  
> This time, though, I have better excuses than my usual slowness: First there was a cold, then surgery, next recovery followed by a little motivational crisis. 
> 
> I also apologize to all other McGenji fans for abusing [McGenji Week](http://mcgenjiweek.tumblr.com/post/151413786319/welcome-to-mcgenji-week-to-celebrate-mcgenji-and) to smash that crisis.
> 
> Now, this is a little thing about a cowboy, a cyborg ninja and touches, a drabble grown out of proportions (I blame the cherry mead. Delicious stuff. Kids, don't do this at home, alcohol is not a problem solver! /adult-mode).
> 
> I think it's not as bad as I think so - have fun, enjoy, be nice to me and to each other and have a good evening!
> 
> (You can also find this on [my Overwatch tumblr](http://overwatchmayhem.tumblr.com/post/152219940617/touches-mcgenji), for all your fav- and reblogging needs ;) )

McCree hated missions for the ‘greater good’. Greater good, yeah, right. The lesser of two evil, that was more like it but it didn’t sound nice enough. His day had started early and by the time he and his time had reached their destination, the sky mirrored his dark, gloomy mood. Overwatch knew what to expect when they selected him for this. Unlike Genji, McCree wasn’t known for subtlety and that Dr. Ziegler hadn’t come along to support them but to keep the casualties low became clear when he saw the village. Village. As much of a euphemism as ‘greater good’.

In the end, they completed their assignment. Secret lab destroyed scientist with God complex dead, and half this hicktown with him. It was almost as though his bosses had known all the talk about traps and poison gas weren’t an empty threat. Once that asshole had been put to sleep in his own blood with a bullet between his eyes, he and Genji did all they could to help Dr. Ziegler with the villagers. Many made it, more didn’t. Yeah, sure, they stopped one branch of the many Talon conspiracies and stopped a poison gas attack on a few capital cities. It still didn’t feel right. It never did when the number of who would have died was an abstract calculation when there were corpses with blank eyes and wide open jaws to be hauled around.

“Ugh.” McCree’s back was hurting after he had helped a poor, overworked coroner with the dead bodies. The ride in a truck didn’t improve the state of his sore muscles. Just the perfect way to end a perfect day. A helicopter was supposed to get them back to the base but with a storm approaching faster than McCree could curse this day, the weather conditions had been deemed as too risky. Fine. He didn’t mind riding a good truck. He and the headquarter, however, seemed to have different ideas about good in general lately. With a weak smile, Dr. Ziegler reminded him nobody would expect elite soldiers in a rusty, old military truck. While she was right, McCree wouldn’t have minded a little head-to-head talk with a group of Talon agents at all if that meant a small break of a _comfortable_ trip.

The tires rolled over another bump, or maybe it was just a pebble, sending another jolt of pain up his spine. Giving a grunt, he shifted around in his seat, hoping to find a position to relax his bones. He glanced at Dr. Ziegler, who had huddled in a corner. Her face was still smeared with dirt and blood, as were her clothes. Her hands rested on her lap and her chin on her chest. Her eyes were closed beneath furrowed brows. The rain drumming on the canvas had eased her body into sleep, but it took more than rain and the increasing force of the wind to ease the doctor’s thoughts.

McCree rolled his shoulder. He felt the heaviness of his artificial arm more on humid days like this. It seemed to weigh him down along with the sights of today. Where it connected to his body, his skin and flesh were beginning to feel raw. This happened from time to time, usually only in his head, but he would ask the doc to check on it later anyway. Invisible pins and needles were pricking his fingers, nothing but phantom pains most of the time, but there was always a chance something was off with this mockery of a sense of touch Dr. Ziegler had installed a while ago.

His eyes wandered from her face to Genji. The cyborg’s face was still hidden behind the mask. During a fight, it provided protection and enhanced his eyesight. Now, it was a silent sign he didn’t want to talk to anybody. A shame, McCree could need a friendly chat, a little banter would lighten his gloomy mood and distract him from his underlying concerns for his brain. Dr. Ziegler had assured him connecting his new arm with his nerves, and therefore, his brain, bore little to no risk, and that it was unlikely the technology would backfire - literally. He wanted to trust her but if all was said and done, it was him who had a piece of scrap metal plugged into his nervous system, not her.

He looked at his hand, opened it, closed it. Wiggled his fingers. If they were covered by skin, there wouldn’t be a difference to his real hand. There was no delay in its responses, the movements were smooth. Once he had gotten used to it, it was as efficient as a tool as any human hand was. And with the never version, he could feel cold, heat, pain again. Just as a shadow of the real deal, but it was better than nothing.

McCree looked back at Genji. His head was leaning against the canvas behind him, his posture was stiff, his arms crossed. He didn’t seem relaxed enough to be asleep but then again, did he even need to relax his body to sleep? Did he sleep at all?

Genji’s omnic friend, Zenyatta, rested once in a while. It was more a state of relaxing, a trance, than sleep, Zenyatta had once explained. The omnic was open to questions, he even found delight in educating humans as ignorant as McCree. Genji, however…

They hadn’t met during McCree’s Blackwatch days. From the gossip around them, McCree had learned Genji had changed, that he was friendlier, easier to talk to. McCree couldn’t compare him to the Genji from years ago but when this was an easy to talk to Genji, the old one probably had been a rock.

He knew very little about Genji’s history, only that he had once been human, an almost dead human until Overwatch took him in. Dr. Ziegler was responsible for his new body and after working a while for Overwatch, Genji had left. Now he was back, end of story.

He tried to imagine himself having half or more of his body replaced by scrap and wires. The thought made him shudder. It was nice to feel ‘his’ arm again but it was always as if it was numb. A numb body, day in, day out, for the rest of his life… would he end it before or after it drove him into madness? Yet, there were whispers. About Genji being Dr. Ziegler’s biggest success, her masterpiece. McCree’s artificial arm was sturdier than his old one but there it ended. He wasn’t faster or stronger, he couldn’t move his fingers faster than before. It was an amazing copy. Genji was more than a copy. He was faster, his senses were superior to human senses, so was his endurance.

Could his body feel? If so, was it like a human? Or better? Or worse?

“You’re staring at me.” Genji hadn’t moved, he was still leaning against the canvas. His mask gave his voice a faint, hollow echo, but it didn’t filter its tiredness.

“Thought you were asleep,” McCree said, then he laughed. “Which doesn’t make it better, right?”

“It’s not important to me.”

McCree wasn’t sure if he meant sleep or that he was watched. Thunder rolled over them, followed by a howling engine when the driver hit the gas to speed up. The tires were determined to catch as many potholes as possible. McCree’s body acknowledged the commitment with another jolt of pain.

“Dammit, I sound like an old man.” He chuckled, self-conscious of the groan that had escaped him. Suffering had been a more dignified affair when he believed the others were asleep.

“I should tell this Reinhardt.”

A grin appeared on McCree’s face as he noted the subtle mockery in Genji’s words. His interactions with the cyborg had been rare and mostly, his own jokes had been met with polite indifference, except for one time, when Genji returned the banter.

“He doesn’t count. That old mule would carry the truck on his back if he was here.” He leaned back, tensing and loosening the muscles of his shoulders. A lamp, hanging from one of the bars, was swaying to and fro. Shadows were dancing over faces in the mellow light.

“Probably. Yes.” Genji still hadn’t moved but now, McCree was sure to feel his gaze. Or maybe he was imagining things. Either way, it was nice to talk with somebody.

But Genji fell silent again, maybe staring at him, maybe not, and the only voices heard were the wind screaming at the stubborn vehicle and the rain taunting them as it knocked on all sides of the truck. McCree didn’t like to be caught like cattle in this driving box without windows. It was still a long way back to the base, he could hammer against the wall separating them from the driver’s cabin and offer to take over the wheel, allowing their driver to rest.

But if he climbed into the driver’s seat, he’d miss the company. The silent company. Well, at least the lamp was offering an odd sense of comfort, a fragile, small comfort not free from creepiness.

“Reminds me of the time I traveled with a circus,” he said more to himself, raising a surprised eyebrow when a chuckle answered him.

“As what? Did you jump through burning hoops?”

“Among other things. Nah, just some ticks with the guns, throwing knives sometimes. But I like the image. Damn, I should have tried it!” Hearing Genji’s hesitant laugh was strangely relaxing but more importantly, it encouraged him to keep talking.

“The wife of our ringmaster was a fortune teller and damn, she was good at it. Playing the part, I mean. Fake accent that didn’t belong to any country, layers and layers of clothes and scarves, so many and colorful you couldn’t tell which culture she wanted to mock. But people loved the show.” He sneered, pulling a face. “Guess you have to overdo it or people wouldn’t see what they expect to see. Or are supposed to.”

“I understand. And I wonder, what part of this tale reminds you of our situation? Do I prepare to be insulted?”

McCree wished he could see Genji’s face. He sensed Genji’s amusement more than he heard it and it would be easier to gauge his mood if he could have a look at his eyes.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“If you did, you’d be a better diviner than old Madame Medina,” McCree shot back with a laugh when the truth was that he was astonished how easily Genji had read his face. “Won’t lie to you, it’s strange to talk to a man and not seeing his face. If you weren’t who you are I’d think you’re hiding something. Never trusted a man who was hiding something.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Genji’s fingers moved to the side of his head and with a click, the mask came off. He placed it on his lap, his fingertips tapping on it for a moment while his glare challenged McCree. In the dim light, his gray eyes were almost black. The scars, old burns, and cuts, looked deeper than they are, turning his face, his most human feature, into that of an otherworldly creature made of past pains and regrets.

“Appreciated.” McCree nodded with a smile, tipping his hat. A simple, genuine gesture that softened Genji’s stare and his pose.

“And no, nothing to insult you,” he picked up his tale. “It’s just the light. Sitting in this rolling coffin. Burn some incense, add some cheap Halloween props, and you’d feel like sitting in her tent. Sorry.” The story had sounded more interesting in his head and he was disappointed with himself how stale it ended. His sense of humor blamed Genji because it was damn hard for the best storyteller to deliver a good punchline when he was interrupted by a reclusive Cyborg dramatically revealing his face.

A small, clicking noise caught his attention. Genji’s fingertips were still tapping on the mask. McCree bit his tongue to stop himself from grinning. Drama, eh? He had learned enough cold reading from old Linda Parker - pardon - Madame Medina to tell indifference from boredom or fear. Genji had put up his own little show to hide how nervous he was. Of course! Even omnics were capable of emotions and Genji was, despite everything, still human. Sometimes, it was just easy to forget with his cool, mellow act.

The corners of McCree’s mouth twitched. Suddenly, an idea sprung up in his mind. This should be fun and also answer some questions he had before.

“But she taught me a few tricks. She was pretty good at palm reading, probably her most legitimate trick. You can tell a lot about a person by having a good look at their hand. Come!” He leaned forward and reached for Genji’s right hand. “I’ll give you a free reading.”

“This… this is ridiculous!” Genji jerked his hand away, holding and rubbing it with his other as though he had touched a glowing piece of iron. “Even if it wasn’t a silly trick. My hand isn’t real. There is nothing to read.”

“Now I am insulted.” McCree gasped in pretended shock. “I’d never try to summon your dead grandmother, or tell you how successful you’ll be while gazing into a cheap ball of glass! But there’s something to palm reading. I’ve seen it done for omnics, and I’ve learned from the best!”

“From a swindler!”

“The best swindlers always offer one or two truths. It makes their sham more convincing. Gimme your hand. It’ll be fun and nobody’s gonna get killed, except the boredom.” McCree held out his open hand, his smile gentle and open. He hadn’t believed that Genji would agree to his suggestion at once, he had believed he’d refuse at once, telling him to stop bothering with this childish nonsense. He hadn’t expected hesitation and the flicker of fear in the dark eyes surprised him. McCree waited, leaving the decision for a yes or a no to Genji alone. He could lie to himself that he wanted to give Genji the control of the situation back, he could be honest and admit to himself that Genji’s face was fascinating to watch. He had seen him without the mask before but he had never been so close to study his features. Under the marred layer of skin, grayish cheeks blushed in a soft, violet hue. Fine muscles under eyes and around his lips twitched. It didn’t need an expert con-man to read Genji’s face like an open book. So this was the secret, the answer to the question why Genji was covering his face most of the time although he claimed to be content with his form and existence.

A low sigh shattered the silence between them and Genji put his hand in McCree’s. Artificial fingers were lying heavily in the hand of mere flesh and bones.

“Thanks.” _For your trust,_ he almost added and remembered this was nothing but a game, a little carnival trick with a hint of a prank. Harmless fun, not a life-threatening situation.

“So, what do you see, McCree? Do I marry the princess and inherit the kingdom?” The haughty chant failed to mask his tension.

“Not much yet.” Still smiling, McCree put his artificial hand on Genji’s, turning it around to reveal the palm. “Ah, now I see more clearly! Oh, and call me Jesse, will ya? I swear, every time somebody says McCree I expect Re… to get into trouble.” Reyes was no more but this wasn’t the time and place to talk about the man who had become Reaper. He banished the dark thought and focused on the task ahead.

He placed a fingertip from his human hand in the center of Genji’s palm. Lightly, without much pressure, he drew a little circle. Genji’s fingers twitched, McCree glanced up. Genji was staring at their hands, his face not giving away if it had been a reflex or if he felt the touch.

“I can’t see much in this light,” McCree muttered, mimicking the dreamy voice of a fake medium. He let the circle grow, moving closer to the fingers and back. There were none of the usual lines on prosthesis so it wasn’t built to resemble a human’s hand perfectly. But it was softer than McCree’s, despite its sturdy look. The inside of Genji’s hand felt like fine leather stretched over a thin layer of firm flesh.

“But there are lines. Different from a real hand but they are there. Fine, a cobweb woven by years and manual work. Or wielding a weapon.”

“Don’t say. If I paid you I would be disappointed. You tell what you’ve known for years. Jesse.”

McCree chuckled, his name sounded delightful spoken in Genji’s accent laced with sarcasm.

“Hey, it’s just a warm-up. Also, now you know you were wrong. There’s a lot to read from your hand. Let’s see…” As he thought. The fake skin between the fingers was thinner, granting more flexibility. Gently, his fingertip moved up Genji’s middle finger, his short nail scratching over it. Again, a twitch.

“It wasn’t easy to be you. Not before you changed, not after. Even now, it’s still sometimes difficult.” As he glided back to the palm, he let his own middle and ring finger join. Careful and without much pressure, they moved over the skin, one finger occasionally daring to stroke over the heel of the hand.

“It was hard to accept the cyborg part as you. But it’s also hard to remember you’re human. Like, a real human. Not some machine.” With vague assumptions, he had started and with speaking his own mind he continued. The hand in his was not just twitching anymore. It was trembling, slightly, for now, reacting whenever McCree’s calloused fingers touched what would have been ticklish, sensitive skin of a human hand.

“Stop…” But Genji’s whisper didn’t break through McCree’s mumbling.

“You feel this, don’t you? You still feel touches.” He moved over the slim wrist, from there back and along the thumb. “Wonder _how_ it feels. Does it tickle? Is it nice or all numb?” he muttered as he traced the outlines of Genji’s hand. McCree’s fingers glided between Genji’s that closed around his.

And were jerked away.

“Stop, I said! This isn’t funny. Don’t do this again!”

McCree looked up and blinked a few times, waking up from a daze he hadn’t realized had befallen him.

“I don’t feel anymore. I don’t need to. This is ridiculous.” Genji’s hands clutched around his mask but before he put it on, McCree caught a last glimpse of his face. It was glowing in a reddish-purple color, his eyes were wide and refused to look at him.

“Sorry.”

“We’re back soon. Rest. In silence.” Like before, Genji was sitting upright, his arms crossed. His head was leaning against the canvas, only this time, he turned his face away from McCree.

“Sorry,” he repeated and pulled his hat over his face. The world he had forgotten around was returning, with its raindrops, its storm and the bumpy roads. It was moist and cold and a chill was creeping up his spine and found a cozy home in his bones and stiff muscles. But there was a warmth in his hands, from where he held Genji’s and his fingers were tingling from the touches. It wouldn’t linger for long but it was all he had to distract himself from the ride, the day and a cyborg hiding his blushes behind a mask.

What he intended to be a harmless fun prank had backfired, yet, for the first time today, he didn’t feel like he lost.

He glanced at Dr. Ziegler who had been sleeping through the whole scene, to find her looking at him with open eyes and a smirk. He was about to say something when she put a finger to her lips. She winked, and closed her eyes again.

Neither spoke a word for the rest of the trip. Once they arrived, Genji jumped out of the truck and marched into the building. Dr. Ziegler slid from her seat and out of the vehicle, cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders. McCree didn’t bother with grace and elegance when he climbed out. He stretched his back and arms as soon as his feet hit the firm ground, yawning with his mouth wide open.

“Can we fill out our reports later, Doc? I’m useless until I got a hot shower and a nap. And food.”

“Of course, Jesse.” She smiled, patting his shoulder. “I don’t want any of us to catch a cold and I’ll personally invite everyone who opposes to a checkup, blood tests included. Oh, and Jesse.” She lowered her voice, looking at the main door that had closed behind Genji.

“Hm?”

“I’m not in the place to give away what Genji doesn’t want to tell you himself. But no matter how important Zenyatta and his doctor are to him, he needs human friends, too. You understand?”

He looked at her calm face, finding nothing but sad reassurance.

“Not objecting. But don’t complain when a scoundrel like me is a bad influence on a perfect little thing like him.” This was meant to be a joke but the doctor’s features darkened under her frown.

“I know how people talk behind my back about Genji and me, Jesse. They call him a masterpiece, _my_ masterpiece, my best shot, my finest work and yes, I’ve heard Ziegler’s monster more than once. He isn’t a piece, shot, monster or any other kind of thing and he isn’t _my_ thing.” She spoke slower, her voice dangerously low as anger was rising in her and threatened to break through. She clenched her teeth, lifted her chin and took a deep breath.

“He and you, you are my patients. I’m a physician, I make sure his body works. Zenyatta helps him to accept his new body. Unfortunately, he doesn’t open up either to him or me about his human side. I know, friendships can’t be forced but… if it’s not too much, maybe a second or third try, do you think that’s possible?”

“Sure. I’m not a therapist but if he wants to laugh at my marvelous jokes he’s always welcome.” _Like a mom arranging a playdate between two boys._

“Laughing is the best medicine. Thanks, Jesse. And now go inside and warm yourself up. Doctor’s order.”

Well, that was something she didn’t have to tell him twice. The prospect of his warm room and dry clothes put a wide grin on his face and while thinking about what she had told him, he jogged to the main entrance, water dripping from the brim of his head with every step.

She was right, friendships couldn’t be forced, however, when a second or third try meant he could tickle a blushing cyborg, he wouldn’t complain.

A task right up to his ally, if given a little time, he had no doubt he’d made a new, interesting friend.

If only.

* * *

The attack on the base was sudden and expected but not so soon.

Detonations and gunshots ended the night after only two days had passed. Fire broke out around the base, started and kept alive with gasoline. They weren’t a threat to the building and the forest encircling it was moist from the rain but even then, a well fed and pampered fire would sooner or later get out of control.

Until then, burnt chemicals spiraled towards the sky, poisoning the air and setting a marker for their position.

Talon retaliated and they were determined to rather go down with destruction before giving up.

They attacked in waves, lurking between trees that didn’t make a difference between who they hid from the eyes of their enemies.

“Would you look at that, something’s tickling my neck.” McCree croaked the last word. A Talon agent had jumped at him from behind. He was shorter and with his feet dangling in the air, the strong arms were tightening around McCree’s throat. McCree swung around but the grunting brawler refused to be shaken off so easily.

A second agent stormed towards them, his gun in his hand and a bullet in his head before he could pull the trigger. McCree shot two more as he stumbled backward, gasping for air while his eyes were slowly losing focus. His hand was calm and his aim faithful as he pulled the trigger once more, killing another agent.

The last one hadn’t hit the ground when McCree finally reached the wall. He threw himself against it, again and again. Curses were huffed into his ear as the impacts knocked the air out of his attacker’s lungs. McCree twisted his spine and neck, finally hearing two dull thumps when the agent’s head banged against concrete.

The grip loosened and the guy slid down. Both wasted a precious second to recover their breath.

The heat behind McCree was becoming unbearable. The smaller fires were fusing into one large inferno and it was creeping closer to the main entrance. A step more back and fiery tendrils would lick his back, scorching their way through his clothes.

He raised his gun and the agent refused to die alone. He charged towards McCree who stepped aside.

The momentum pulled the Talon agent towards the flames and when his feet dug into the ground inches from the fire away, a heavy boot kicked his back.

“You’ll all turn to ashes but one thing is sure boys- Our base will stand unscathed.” He tipped his hat and fired his gun, ending the screams of misery with a shot in the back of the human torch’s head.

“Is this part of your circus performance?” a voice chuckled behind him. Genji.

“A dance, wit and pyrotechnics for special effects, and the grand finale - a kill. You caught me.” With an air of solemn thoughtfulness, he stroke over his beard, earning an amused snort. Two days after their talk in the truck hadn’t been enough for McCree to get to know Genji better, or giving Genji a chance to get to know him. But once in a while, he slipped a joke or banter into his conversation when Genji was near and more often than not, Genji wouldn’t hide a chuckle.

“I wonder, is there room for more kills if the show is dropped? Or is show more important than efficiency?”

“Says the green-glowing bouncy ball, dispenser of death and calendar mottoes.”

“Ha! I give you the point.” Genji was in a whistling good mood, joining freely McCree’s laughter.

“Let’s agree we both love a good show and kill with style. Watch out!” McCree reloaded his gun and fired two shots, taking out the first two agents storming out of the shadows of the woods. Genji was up in the air, jumping towards the other five, taking one out with his sword.

He retreated back to the fire, moving out of McCree’s line of sight, who ended two more lives.

The fight was coming to an end. Shouts from the other sides of the building were dying down, so did the gunfire and battle cries.

This had to be one of the last waves and they were making a quick end of it.

“Leave this to me!” Genji called from behind McCree after another man fell. Jumping high, his feet used the wall to launch him through the air. His sword held high, every muscle and tendon tensed, he flew towards the last standing Talon agent, the blade aiming for the throat.

A bullet ripped through his shoulder.

“GENJI!”

The short body crashed towards the ground, impact and shock pulling him backward.

The last agent was as perplexed as McCree but died before he noticed the man lying on the ground. Blood was dripping from his mouth as McCree’s bullet torn a hole in his lungs but not his heart. The gun in his hand was shaking and dropped into the dirt after McCree fixed his mistake.

Before the last Talon attacker finished his last breath, McCree jerked around and leaped towards the fire.

Flames were grasping for his hair and clothes, leaving blisters on his face and scorching his hair as they pulled him towards Genji’s twitching body.

Everything happened too fast from there. McCree didn’t waste time thinking. He threw his arms around Genji, before standing up he hurled himself around and rolled out of the fire, holding him tightly. He kept rolling over the moist ground and grass to extinguish the fire, hardly realizing that it was him, his clothes, that were set ablaze.

“Jesse! Oh no, Genji! Jesse, get up!”

McCree jerked up his head. Ana was hurrying towards them, reached them with a few wide steps. She threw her rifle aside, grabbed McCree by his arm and pulled him up, tearing at his serape once he was standing.

Finally, he realized it was on fire. He pulled it over his head and threw it to the ground, stomping on it until the last flames were killed.

Ana was bent over Genji. The lights from his armor had gone out and a blueish liquid was oozing from a hole in his shoulder.

“I heard you yelling his name and more gunshots. No, this isn’t good… How does this thing go off…” Her hands were running over Genji’s face plate, twitching back the second she touched the surface.

“Wait. Let me do it.” He knelt down next to Genji. He was relieved to see that his cyborg body hadn’t caught fire. But when he touched the mask he knew why Ana was so worried.

It was hot. Genji’s whole body emitted a scorching heat, he might as well have been burning.

He inhaled sharply, forcing his good hand to move behind the edges of Genji’s face plate. For once, he was grateful for his dull prosthesis. He recalled the memory of Genji’s fingers sliding behind it, somewhere on the same level as his temples, let his fingertips run over the smooth metal.

With a click, the mask came off.

“Fuck, Genji! Can you hear me?!” He touched his cheeks, pulling away quickly.

Genji was alive. His eyes were half closed, his mouth half open as he gasped for air. His forehead was covered in sweat, his skin felt as if a high fever was eating him from inside.

“Ana, do something!” His hand ran over Genji’s throat. Artificial skin, muscles and armor alike were too hot and refused to cool down in the cold night.

“My boosts would make things worse, the last thing he needs is a higher pulse from an adrenalin shot.” Ana pulled out projectiles and vials from the pockets of her coat, spreading the collection on the ground as she went through the options.

“Jesse…” A trembling hand shot up, hardly able to grab McCree by the collar of his shirt. “Warm… too warm… heat… broken…”

“If something is wrong with his temperature regulation there’s nothing I can do. That’s Angela’s…”

“Fuck this,” McCree cut her short. He shoved his arms under Genji and lifted him up. He was heavier than he looked and lighter than McCree had thought. The heat coming from Genji wasn’t as bad as the fire itself but still uncomfortable. And definitely too hot for a normal human being to be healthy.

“Ana, get Angela, I’ll take him back inside.”

“Last time I saw her she was following Morrison and Lucio into the forest. I tried to call her before I got here, the connection broke off when she answered.” Despite the concerning news, Ana stuffed her belongings back into her coat, grabbed her rifle and stood up. “I’ll try my best to find her. You try to cool him down somehow.”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

 

The base was empty. Since the recall, the Overwatch agents were running the place on their own and during the attack, everyone had run outside to join the fight.

The building felt abandoned. The only signs of life were the echoes of McCree’s boots as he hastened through the deserted corridors. Genji was becoming heavier with every step. The damn heat wouldn’t subside and his breath was becoming shallow.

“Anybody here?” There was no use of calling for help, yet McCree had to do it. He had to hear the sound of a voice even if it was only his own. With all the rooms - quarters, mess, offices, training areas - empty, the base felt twice its size and the corridor endless.

Finally, he reached his destination. His kick tore the door to the shower room out if its hinges.

“Hope your corset’s made of stainless steel.” As soon as they stood under one of the many shower heads, McCree turned on the water.

The icy stream did wonders to the burns in his face while cutting off his own breath. Still holding Genji in his arm, he slid to the floor. Dirt and sweat were washed down the drain, along with a liquid that was Genji’s blood. In the bright lights of the shower room, it was more purple than blue, which explained the purple-ish shade of Genji’s blushes. Now, it was more of a problem than fascinating. He couldn’t tell from the color of Genji’s lips if the temperature was reaching a critical point on the opposite end.

“Please, let this work. This has to work… Ziegler’s coming soon… she’ll fix you…” His clothes were soaked within seconds, clinging closely to his body. McCree was shivering but Genji was still a worrisome source of warmth.

He leaned his back against the tiled wall and pulled Genji in a sitting position, letting him rest against his chest. His good hand moved over the scarred face, trying to wipe the water away from Genji’s mouth and nose. His plan wouldn’t be of much use if he drowned him. Genji’s face still felt too hot.

They were sitting under the cold water less than four minutes when McCree’s human fingers began to stiffen. They were trembling and hurting while he kept stroking over Genji’s face, hoping to sense any change in the temperature. And maybe for comfort.

“I lied to you…”

“Genji, are you okay?!” The faint voice, barely more than a sigh, was worse than the silence.

“I lied to you…” Genji repeated, leaning his head against McCree’s shoulder. “In the truck. I can feel your touch. I do it now.”

“That’s okay, you know. We can talk about that later. The doc’s on her way, she’ll fix whatever is wrong with you.” The few muscles in his body that hadn’t been grasped by the cold tensed when Genji’s hand reached up to touch his.

“I’m sorry. It had been so long… I feel it all. Your skin. The warmth of your body… I like it, Jesse.”

“Save that smooth talk for later. I’ll gladly listen when you’re patched up.” Genji was trembling in his arms. The temperature had gone down but was still too high. McCree didn’t dare to stop the shower. Whatever had caused the failure was still broken and he would go nowhere until he knew Genji was taken care of. If that meant sitting here, in his wet clothes while more and more water drenched him to the bones - so be it.

“Jesse, can you help me taking off the helmet? It’s too warm.” Genji looked up at him. The pleading eyes reminded McCree of fog on a November morning. The helpless gaze was so unlikely Genji’s usual attitude, so unfitting for what he was capable off and what he had survived until now that McCree’s throat tightened.

“I’ll try.” His artificial arm wrapped around Genji’s chest to keep him in the upright position, he let his free hand run along the edge of the armor covering Genji’s head. He wasn’t sure where the protective piece ended and where his body began - he hadn’t even known that the part didn’t belong to the body. Finally, his fingertips found a similar dent like the one from the mask. He pressed against it and heard a satisfying click.

“You… have hair!” Half fearing he’d uncover a skull, the sight of black, smooth hair surprised him. He put the headpiece aside and ran his fingers through the short cut.

“Yeah… does it feel nice?”

Nothing had ever sounded so sweet like the hint of amusement in this weak voice.

“Not sure. It’s kinda wet, you know. Gonna give it another test later.” _Smooth._ He couldn’t have chosen a worse situation to flirt. But Genji gave a low laugh.

“I like you, Jesse. You’re so sure of yourself but when you could be stern and cruel, you choose to joke. I like this.” Genji sighed and closed his eyes.

“Hey, hey, I don’t wanna hear anything like this! Not now!”

“But…”

“Listen, there are only two moments for a man to talk like this. In a sweet moment or his last. This isn’t sweet, it’s fucking cold, and it sure isn’t your last moment, you hear me?” He rushed out those words that burnt his lips more than the fire. He refused to believe that this should be the end. It was just a dumb shot into the shoulder, dammit. After the fight was won. This wasn’t noble, nor was there glory, this was nothing but stupid and the only stupidity he was willing to accept was his own. When he didn’t make sure that each of his bullets killed.

“Don’t know, Jesse. I’m freezing. Feels like death.”

McCree stroke over Genji’s face.

“Sorry, it’s better, but it still feels like you’re having the mother bitch of all fevers. Please, don’t run a self-destruction program yet. Dr. Ziegler will be here soon, things gonna be fine then.”

“I don’t have such a feature! Ha!” He snuggled closer against McCree. “Feels good to laugh. You’re warm. Feels good, too.”

“Of course. I’m the hottest guy who ever wielded a gun in the name of Overwatch. Well, except for you, right now. Literally. Damn, wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler.” He pinched Genji’s cheek. Indeed, he was huddling deeper into McCree’s arms, pulling up his legs even, his face leaning into McCree’s hand.

“Even though I cannot self-destruct, many secrets are well hidden behind my shields.”

“Good, the calendar motto dispenser is back, now all we have to do is get you bouncing around again. And your secrets are a pleasure to discover.” Again, he was running through the dark, wet hair, giving it gentle tugs, a gratefulness stronger than adrenaline rushing through him whenever his words provoked another little laugh or chuckle.

This time, Genji smiled when he looked up at him. The fog had lifted from his eyes that now gleamed with a will strong as stone. He didn’t want to give up and he refused to break the gaze between them. For the moment, they both retreated into silence, allowing a fragile warmth to grow between them despite the water rushing over their heads and bodies and disappearing unnoticed in the drain.

The moment ended abruptly and McCree knew that now, everything was going to be okay.

“Genji!” Finally, Dr. Angela Ziegler had found them. She was the storm to the cold rain and McCree felt a mountain crumbling from his shoulders under her look of relief.

“Well done, Jesse. Ana told me what happened and if the temperature regulation really is damaged, you’ve just saved his life. Get him into my lab quickly. I’ll take over now.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Yes. This should be easy to fix if we don’t waste too much time.”

“You heard that?” Groaning under the strain of the cold and Genji’s weight, McCree pushed himself up from the floor. “You gonna live. But don’t you dare to take anything you said back!”

“I stand by my word. Always.” The aloof dignity made McCree laugh but maybe it also was a hope coming to be true. He had firmly believed in this outcome, or so he thought, because as the denied doubts vanished, he was filled with giddiness.

Ignoring his stiff legs, he hurried after Dr. Ziegler. Her lab wasn’t far away, even though the few steps downstairs felt like a trip around the world.

He followed her inside her realm, laying Genji on the slab she was pointing on. He hadn’t been here before. This was truly a lab, nothing resembled the simple but comforting atmosphere of her medical office. Until he was confronted with the many monitors, the wires and tubes dangling from walls, machines, and ceilings, he had forgotten that Genji wasn’t fully human. No, that his body wasn’t fully human.

Dr. Ziegler switched on the striplights and before the white brightness flooded the room, she was back with Genji, removing his shoulder armor and beginning to hook him up to one of the weird machines.

Whatever it did, it made Genji feel better. His sigh was less pained and there was the strength of his voice behind it. McCree, who had done his best to stay out of the doctor’s way, took that as his cue to leave before she kicked him out.

A hand grabbed him by the wrist.

“Angela.” Genji turned his head towards her. Nothing about his eyes was pleading, there was only grim determination. “Can he stay?”

She paused for a moment, looking from McCree to Genji in surprise.

“There isn’t a reason why not. There isn’t, however, anything he can do to help.”

“Yes, there is,” McCree answered in Genji’s place, intertwining their fingers. “Holding his hand.”

 


End file.
